My Brother's Bike

A perfect summer day and

I will triumph over

 my brother's bike.

It's too tall and has that extra bar -

you know the one I'm talking about.

The excruciating boys' bar 
that I will struggle with today

and perhaps the rest of my life.

Rolled out - training wheels gone

I am determined, wobbly,

...and I am down.

Barely two houses past my start,

but I will not be beaten.

Me, of the 'pleasingly plump' variety,

me, of the 'smart little girl' variety,

me, of the 'baby of the family' variety,

still believing those are good things.

I climb on again -

my toes barely touching the ground

and begin to pedal slowly, 

then faster and faster, 

past Crabby Appleton's house

glorifying in my success, elated!

I see curb ahead, 

and psyching myself out

attempt the turn, fearful,

...and I am down. 

Ouch! Shoot!

Quickly I look  around, 

already more afraid

 of looking bad

then of the actual pain 

I'm experiencing.

My knee is bloodied, throbbing,

but I will not be beaten.

Now, one whole side 

of the block is gone, 

and I am passing houses 

I only know the backs of

from walking the top of the fence

behind my own, 

and I am triumphant!

Until I crash into a fence covered

in roses - fragrant roses, 
that tear at my limbs, 

yet one leg stays on the ground

and tip-toed, seeking, pushes off 

and I am my way home, 

riding like a pro.

When I get there 

my brother growls 
what are you doing 

with my bike?

Riding it, I assert,

until I have my own.